


Sometimes All You Need is Kinky Smut

by Elizabeth1985



Series: Destiel Ficlets [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Butt Plugs, Clearly I need to get laid like my god, Dom Castiel, I stand corrected... there is anal sex but its afterward and Dean is asleep haha, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Riding Crops, Sub Dean, Tied-Up Dean, no anal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8943379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth1985/pseuds/Elizabeth1985
Summary: A post-hunt homecoming where Cas gets freaky with Dean... and Dean loves it. (or that time I was bored and wrote kinky plotless smut because why the fuck not)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt (tumblr ask): "Tied to the bed ass down :-) <33"              
> 
> Notes: Established relationship. Not entirely sure what you meant by assdown, but he's face-up lol. Thanks to Tennyo for being so quick to meta this for me - you are the best and ily.

Damn, Cas really knew how to rock a post-hunt homecoming.

Not long after returning from a witchy shakedown two states over, Dean found himself being dragged by the tie down the hall to his room. He barely had time to chuck his Fed clothes before Cas was upending their nightstand in preparation for whatever he had planned.

Ropes, dildos, plugs, and various other kinky paraphernalia landed on the bedspread. Weeks ago, Dean would’ve been daunted. Now, a thrill raced through his veins.

Dean eyed the lot of it, faintly reminiscent, and swallowed nervously, sure that Cas heard. Knowing where this night was headed, he snagged his phone off the dresser and sent out a succinct text telling Sam to skedaddle unless baby bro wants a repeat of what happened after their makeshift thanksgiving dinner. Suffice to say Cas _really_ liked the holidays. It was also the night Dean learned what felching was. _Mmmm. Damn, that was somethin’ else._

In a few short seconds, Dean was silently stripped bare. Then shoved back onto the bed—narrowly avoiding the pile of deviant items—where he sprawled out like the world’s sluttiest starfish.

Dean didn’t dare say a word. He knew better by now. It only took about ten red-hot spankings to get that one through to his head. In all fairness, he got cocky and mischievous on purpose a time or two. But hey, who could blame him? Cas was goddamn dynamite in bed. And fuck… when the angel not-so-casually informed Dean he knew _all_ of Dean’s sexual proclivities, dating back to when he was sixteen and fantasized about his math teacher bending him over a desk in front of the entire school—

“If you plan to continue thinking about your former math teacher, Dean… I can easily tie you here and leave. For hours…”

_Hells to the no._

Dean rapidly shook his head and pinned his eyes to the ceiling. He breathed slow, the lingering wait punctuated by the occasional rustle, snap, or steep dip in the bed. Jesus, he hated the waiting, couldn’t rely his own willpower to keep still or quiet. But, _ohhh_ , if he moved… there’d be hell to pay. Or an angel to blow. Not that he minded exactly.

When Cas’ hand circled around his ankle, his breath caught but he allowed Cas to shift his leg inward; knee up, heel pressed towards his ass. _Mmm, fuck, fuck, fuck_. All he wanted was to slam his eyes shut but licked his lips instead.

Cas followed suit with the other leg. A minute later, carefully placed silk ropes were looped around his shins and thighs, wrenched tight, trapping his legs in a locked bend. It took everything he had not to cant his hips, stifling a groan of wary anticipation.

Not being able to stretch his legs, without knowing for how long, brought a twitch of anger to his lip.

Cas didn’t comment. Instead, the angel shoved a hand under Dean’s back and elevated him enough to work a couple pillows beneath his hips.

The silence in the room became deafening. And yet, it was part of what cranked him up. Thing is, Dean had never been keen on silence. Stupid unwanted thoughts storming in, demanding an audience. Fuck that—Dean would really rather not think about how damaged he was. Hence the blaring Metallica and inane chatter he resorted to on a regular basis.

But Cas knew his weaknesses—every last one; the good, the bad, and the shameful. And so, in a weird way of helping, the angel often imprisoned Dean this way, in their unorthodox nights together. Tied down, immobile, and lost in the quiet surroundings leaving only his mind to comfort him. Forced reflection, he supposed.

That is, until he was dragged down a road so ripe with euphoria he no longer had _any_ thoughts, and he made _more_ than enough noise to cancel out the former oppressive silence.

Unfortunately, that was easily an hour away, if not more.

Drawing his attention sharply back, something cold and metallic snapped around his right ankle… then Cas nudged his legs apart, wider until he was obscenely exposed. Only then, did the second cool clamp click into place around his left ankle.

Oh, thank god for solid bedframes.

Dean grabbed at the comforter, a rush of cool air tightening his skin. There was something hypnotically vulnerable about being splayed for the taking, completely at Cas’ will. It was one thing to trust the angel with his life, a whole other to trust him with the parts of himself he hardly understood, things he could never really put a name to.

A weighted pause hyper-focused Dean, pointedly attuned to every dragging breath, how every muscle flickered, rippling beneath his skin. A drafty, concrete-constructed bunker never helped matters.

Towards the end of the bed, Cas sighed—enamoured and peaceful. In the next second, warm lingering kisses were dished out from his feet, up the inside of his bent legs, to the top of his knees. Dean shook under the affection, fighting it.

Certain touches always felt _too_ soft, maybe a shade undeserved. Some deep-seated part of him wanted to pull away from the kindness of it.

“Turn off your mind, Dean.”

Yeah, easier said than done, Genius. It wasn’t exactly a piece of cake to let go around Cas, considering the angel caught every freaking thought he’d ever had.

“Only when I want to,” the angel corrected sternly, passing a hand down the curve of Dean’s muscled thigh, palming across his abdomen and further up to calm the erratic rise and fall of his chest. Shortly after, Cas took Dean’s hands and gently pulled his arms taut behind his head. Another set of ropes secured his wrists, arms stretched in opposite angles towards the headboard.

 _Ohhh… jesus._ He couldn’t move.

Dean struggled for air, chest expanding erratically. No matter how often they did this, a few seconds of panic always drifted in; some ingrained reflex given how he lived his life. Knowing what Dean needed, Cas’ face appeared over his. Captivating blue eyes held his gaze and searched his face. Dean licked his lips, craving a kiss but not daring to ask for one.

Cas’ brow quirked, amused by Dean’s restraint. The angel appeased him with a sinful lick across the seam of his taut mouth, wet tongue pushing in for a taste. Dean turned pliant, letting his jaw hinge open and trying not to squirm as Cas licked into him, flicking at the roof of his mouth and teasing the tip of his tongue.

Dean couldn’t help his response. Not when Cas kissed him deep. A throaty whimper charged into the kiss, desperation overriding control.

Cas admonished him by pulling back—the motion swift—before diving into the curve of Dean’s neck and biting him. _Hard_.

“ _Ahhh!_ ” Dean hissed, jerking his head away. The twinge of pain turned hot, sparking a wave of arousal running straight to his dick. He failed silence again, moaning whorishly loud as Cas soothed the nip with an open-mouthed kiss. It started gentle, then turned salacious. A hot mouth sucking his skin, bristle tickling relentlessly.

The combatting sensations crazed Dean, his body twisting in the binds with mounting irritation.

“Hmmph,” he panted through his nose, pressing his lips together. He couldn’t do more than wrench his head to the side, trying to nudge Cas off. It was too much.

 _Goddammit_!

Cas fucking _knew_ he couldn't take it. Not this… Not without writhing and moaning like some sex-craved maniac. It was impossible to keep his mouth shut. Something about all that tender flesh, the hot wet kiss, the coarse scrape of Cas’ unshaven jaw forcing an endless wave of shivers to roll through him. His skin prickled across his shoulders and down his torso, stomach fluttering in a mix of pleasure and nerves.

Dean fought the need to squirm, a husky delirious laugh bubbling up. Oh yeah, he was losing it fast tonight. Happened that way when he was tired, or feeling particularly tender towards his angel. 

“Cas…” he whined; a low, restless sound. He tried to pull his legs together, but all he felt was the metal restraints digging at skin and bone.

The angel reared back and threw a heated look at him, a heavy palm planting itself over Dean’s mouth. “Mmm… I’ll never understand how that so easily does you in.”

Holding himself as still as he could, Dean stared back. Waiting…

“May I?” Cas held up his already removed tie, brows perched high in a question.

Sometimes Dean was okay with sensory deprivation, sometimes he freaked the fuck out. Now he was right on the cusp and decided that was a great place to be. He nodded eagerly. What he got back was a prolonged squint, stern blue eyes surveying his thoughts.

 _You know you want to_ , he taunted.

Cas huffed, lips pressed into a flat line. Dean won out, and the silk navy tie was gradually brought to lay over his eyes; the last image of Cas disappearing for the remainder of the night.

Or until lucidity had gone by the wayside.

To make up for the taking of one sense, Cas was generous with the others. The rest of the night, the angels deep timbre would rumble through the room, strong, familiar hands would hardly leave Dean’s skin until it was over.

And Christ, Dean loved every wicked aspect of it. Being with Cas was like nothing else. No amount of experimenting in his twenties came close to the druglike highs Cas evoked in him.

For a long while, maybe an hour, the only contact Cas offered were long, sweeping strokes over his entire body—flat palms sliding up and down, running a course from his feet to the top of his head, warming him through.

Dean flipped from being bored by it, to being mollified by the predictability, to being nervous of the inevitable change, wondering how jarring it would be. And under it all, fearing that this was all he’d get. That the touch would slow to an end, and he’d be left untouched in the way he craved, and forced to spend the night plagued by various fantasies.

Cas’ thick voice rose and came to him throughout the continuous touch. Affections mixed with praise mixed with abstract thoughts the angel had. The content didn’t matter, only the voice. It grounded him.

Eventually, the touch did slow. Sweeping patterns reaching an inevitable end, until the last of Cas’ fingers vanished. Dean’s skin thrummed, missing the contact already. Wondering what was next, hoping for anything. He focused on the telling dips in the mattress. After some shifting, Cas wound up somewhere on Dean’s left.

The dim light beyond the blindfold was blocked by a sudden shadow, seconds before the angel’s lips claimed his, pulling a wanton kiss from him. When Cas moaned as his tongue swept inside, Dean’s untouched sex kicked between his hips. Precome welled from the tip, cooling to the air, slowly beading down the side of his dick.

His breath tripped and stuttered, earning him a thick groan from the angel devouring his mouth. The entire length of his cock swelled with a surge of arousal, a coil of heat wrenching tight inside him.

If Dean hadn’t been tied down when Cas abruptly cupped his junk, Dean would’ve jackknifed off the bed. Pleasure roared in his veins. The angel squeezed hard, enough to make him nervous, not enough to hurt.

“ _Hmmng… mmgnh_. _”_ Panting hard through his nose, Dean fought every twitch of rebellion.

Cas’ lips and tongue trailed from his mouth, to his chin, lowering down over his adam’s apple, and further… until those damn teeth were dragging over his pert nipples.

One, and then the other. Then back again.

In minutes, Dean was covered in a sheen of sweat, heaving air as Cas worked him over. Trapped between a tight grip and two rows of teeth, he was losing it.

Without warning, the angel’s ministrations shifted from hard to soft. Sharp teeth replaced by the incessant flick of a tongue, a continuously timed _flick-flick-flick-flick_ until Dean was sure his nipple would flick right off. And if that wasn’t enough, the loose-fisted jerking of his cock, so annoyingly slow, had him wanting to rip the bed apart just to find a way to grab himself and go to town.

Back and forth. Slow and fast. Hard and soft. Dean cringed with each change, harsh noises starting to rise helplessly from this throat. Soft, timid gasps turned into sharp, careless whining.

Everything stopped; all contact gone.

Dean’s heartbeat raced, thudding hard against his rib cage. He waited, on edge. God, he was so embarrassingly _loud_. Air ripping in and out of his lungs, organs racing towards a sure heartattack, metal cuffs clinking around his ankles, ropes creaking around the wood.

_Smack!_

“Ahh-hhh-hh! _Fuuuck!”_   What Dean guessed was the black leather crop they rarely used, landed sharply between his asscheeks. The rapid surge of adrenaline made his teeth chatter until the next stinging blow.

_Smack-smack-smack!_

“Mmnnggffffuuck...” It didn’t _hurt_. It didn’t _not_ hurt.

What it did, however… was make him _wild._ Savage for relief only achieved through one mindfuck of an orgasm, or several. That kind that made you deranged.

Cas was taking him there, cranking him higher, one torturous notch at a time. All Dean could do was ride it out.

_Smack!_

Jesus! Cas randomized the timing of each quick swat. Always landing in precisely the same spot, making his ass tingle and clench. Until one gentler smack deviated, slapping down on his balls.

Dean reeled in a tripped-out high, a bitten-off shriek thrown to the ceiling. Not quite from pain but a throbbing ache so intense it set his skin ablaze, beads of sweat pooling in the crevice where his thigh met his hips.

Low, broken whimpers slipped past his lips, composure all fucked to hell.

Cas’ warm hands settled on his abs, massaging the endless shudders from his body. Soothing the ragged pumping of his chest as he danced the line of hyperventilating. Dean was beyond hard, his dick thick and swollen to the point of discomfort. If he could see past the blindfold, Dean would find his sex hovering over his pelvis, the head flushed a purplish-red by now, veins popping out along the rock-hard shaft. The phallic equivalent of yelling: Look at me! Look at me!

From his freckled cheeks to his roped thighs, his skin would be flushed red, glistening with sweat.

Broad hands cupped his face and lips pressed to his pliant mouth. Soft, sweet moans broke through the touch, calming his turbulent mind.

Aided by the kiss, Dean fell into a languid acceptance. Every taut muscle went slack—a silent form of showing Cas who he belonged to, who he trusted most.

His guardian angel purred at the change, attacking Dean with a heady kiss, breathing heavy—exhales ghosting past Dean’s tongue and down his throat. Strong hands clawed at his skin, Cas’ focus no longer on building him up, but getting ready to take him apart.

“What do you want, Dean?” came Cas’ raw voice, rougher than normal.

Man, these kinds of questions weren’t meant for euphoric-rattled minds. Dean searched for the words, efforts dragged down by the pressing blackness and the profound sensation of Cas’ nearness.

God, he just _wanted._ Dean was past caring how, or with what.

Biting his lips in tandem, Dean rapidly shook his head. “Just you,” he murmured, “I need you…”

Cas laid a kiss on the rise of his cheek where his skin met the layered blindfold. The press of the angel’s thick lips sank into the depths of his soul, grounding him.

Startled, Dean jerked in the binds as Cas’ finger nudged at his rim, the digit cool and slick. He sucked back a lungful of air, mouth agape as Cas gently pushed into him. “Mmm, Cas…” he whispered, chest swelling with affection. “Cas…”

The angel penetrated him with only a single finger, pistoning in and out, the dragging friction mind-numbing. It wasn’t nearly enough. His body too easily accepted it, he wanted more of Cas. Fuck, he wanted all of Cas, but knew he’d only get what Cas was willing to give.

Frustrated, not quite ready to beg, Dean twisted his arms to grab the tense rope, squeezing his fists around it until his knuckles screamed.

Cas pressed in deep, curving upward… the pad of the angel’s finger dragging against his nerve-loaded center, yanking stuttered cries from him. Pulling out, Cas replaced his index with his thumb, pressing down in the opposite direction. Another withdraw, a beat of emptiness, then another finger. The repetition of it really turning him on, as if the angel was exploring Dean from the inside out one damn finger at a time.

Fucking hell, it was maddening! Every muscle started to cramp, aching from prolonged tension. He fought against the restraints, not wanting to escape them, but himself. Desperate for relief, _sweet_ glorious relief.

“Please,” he whined, not caring how needy he sounded. Cas fingered him harder, the thrusts now swift and rough, Cas’ knuckles ramming against Dean’s exposed ass. With a pit of dread, Dean wondered if this was all Cas would give him.

Nonono, he needed more. “Cas, please!” Dean pulled from all four corners, the bed creaking under his exerted strength.

“You know better than to beg.”

At that, Dean felt a tear leak from the corner his eye. Strain mixed with anger bubbling over. He ground his teeth together, jaw flexed, everything tight...

...And didn’t say a fucking word. Lesser miracles have happened.

Cas stopped, withdrawing his lubed finger from Dean. No touch followed. No tender words given. Enraged heat enveloped him, something intangible. His thoughts spun out of control and he realized with a hitch that Cas would wait until he’d calmed down to continue.

He hated it… hated knowing the necessity of it.

Dean’s lower jaw shook, adrenaline wracking his frame. Minutes later, when his breathing had finally settled, Cas folded over him—claiming the space between his knees, elbows lowering to rest at either side of Dean’s head.

“I love you, Dean. So much.”

Well, fuck. So much for emotional control. Dean let the words wash over him—feeling the truth of them in everything they’d been through, in the way Cas took him apart. Tears rolled helplessly over his temples, getting lost in his hair. His voice was thick, ragged as he forced his reply, “I love you too, Cas…”

When Castiel kissed him, it was so ripe with raw affection and love that Dean felt the entirety of his feelings for Cas expand to a breaking point. He would swear his ribs cracked under the strain.

They could never go back from this, too far down the road of need and obsession. Dean was lost to Cas, probably had been since day one. His dumb ass spending nearly a decade in denial.

“Cas?” Dean tried look past the blindfold to the faint shadow blocking the overhead light.

This time, he did not beg. He was good.

Since he _was_ mostly expecting to be fucked, it was a shock when he felt Cas pull away. A cool rush of air replaced the angel’s overheated skin. Definitely _not_ what he wanted, or needed.

There was no way of knowing what Cas would do next.

“Fuuuckk…” A wet, blunt end of a rounded toy pressed at Dean’s rim. He jerked hard, nearly popping his shoulder free of its socket.

Dean trembled, mouth falling open for air as Cas nudged it into him—the broadening tip stretching Dean wider and wider until he was ready to scream and come all over himself.

That’s when Cas paused, letting it rest half in him, half out. He whimpered, pissed off and jacked up. Dear god, come was just going to rapid-fire out of his cock real fucking soon if Cas didn’t get this show on the road.

Holding back a disgruntled roar, Dean bit down on his lip. He was rewarded for his patience.

The toy worked deeper into him, twisting, his body forced to accommodate the continual stretch. Fucking hell, how wide was it? Only a soft groan slipped past his lips; that couldn’t be helped.

Finally, the fatness of the toy started to taper… his body drawing it deep.

What Dean now realized was a plug, sank fully into him, the base resting cold against the crease of his ass. The tremor that rocked through him was rough. Feeling full and stuffed tore his mind into aimless segments of need.

And then it started to vibrate. “ _Fhhhuu—ck._ ”

A low thrumming against his insides. Dean was lost. Precome leaked from his cock, dripping down the length of his shaft and wetting the trimmed thatch of hair at the base.

Given a few minutes, he would come from this alone.

But Cas edged him along. A sudden tight, wet mouth enveloped Dean’s now-throbbing erection. Between the buzzing in him, the fullness, and now the sucking… God, the glorious slick suction of Cas’ sinful mouth… Dean couldn’t shut the fuck up.

An endless moan mumbled past his lips, ecstasy rushing from his limbs to the building pressure deep in his gut.

Dean couldn’t grab at Cas, couldn’t guide the angel’s bobbing head or grind himself on the base of the plug. He was just there, warped by sensation, riding it to the end.

When Cas swallowed him down, thick lips tight around the base of his dick, moaning against his cock—the sensation mixing with the full vibrations radiating in his ass—Dean came _hard_.

The orgasm blasted through his veins, straining his heart, every muscle flexing involuntarily.

Choked-off profanities shot from his mouth.

With every sharp, disorienting spasm, come spurted down Cas’ throat. Dean’s insides gripped relentlessly around the vibrating toy. It was beyond euphoric, it was raw, breaking him down into nothing except the various senses that claimed him.

Nothing existed beyond Cas and the glorious repetitive surge of pleasure. Tingles danced under his skin. He blinked deliriously, wondering when the world had begun to spin.

Castiel’s warm lips slid up his sex and released him, unswallowed come spilling out around his cock and running wetly to the crease where his legs met his hips. It quickly started to cool.

What came next was Cas’ fingers tucking in around the base of the plug and starting to twist and drag it back out—Dean’s body spreading open gradually to release it, his cock weakly jerking in response.

When the fullness was gone, he felt a pang of isolation. Would Cas remove the blindfold? The binds? Any of it?

Fuck… he was starting to unravel.

Cas’ low deep tone, in a series of subtle grunts, drew his attention away from feeling alone. He was reminded Cas was there, and that the sinful angel was clearly touching himself. Dean pictured it… wondering how fast Cas was going, if he was using both hands or one… where he planned to ejaculate.

Inside Dean? _On him maybe?_

“Cas…” The name fell free; a question and statement together.

The angels heavy palm planted itself on Dean’s flat pelvis, fingers absently spreading Dean’s spend over his skin. The touch was grounding, pinning him deeper into the pillows. Immobile as he already was, it added a sharp extra to the feeling of being used by Cas… of pleasing him immeasurably.

Cas’ steady huffs and thick grunts grew louder in the room. The faint rocking of the bed as Cas fucked his own hand become a shade more violent. Powerful angel and all…

When a blunt curse shot from Cas’ lips, Dean gasped, knowing…

Wet splashes of come landed one after the other against his plug-loosened hole, and he felt himself tighten and relax in response.

Before Cas’ heaving breaths returned to normal, Dean felt the return of the toy and Cas’ fingers all mixed in together. The angel’s release was slickly fingered into him, and then kept there with the insertion of the plug.

Dean shook hard, his head drifting from side to side.

The blindfold was finally pushed off his face and Cas was right there. Gorgeous, lust-crazed expression, blue eyes nearly black. “Hello Dean,” Cas whispered reverently, hands brought up to cradle Dean’s face as his angel lowered for a kiss.

The kiss brought him back to life, or down to earth. He wasn’t sure. After a low slow pass of lips and tongues, Cas pulled up and stared down at him.

“I will never tire of watching you come apart for me.”

Dean smiled, affection spreading in his chest. “Jesus, I hope not.”

“Never,” grinned Cas.

“Good.” He brought Cas’ attention to the fact that he was still tied down by jerking one of the ropes. “Mind untying me?” With the request, he timidly peeked up at Cas, knowing the expression drove Cas mad with a sense of possession.

“Only if your promise to leave this in—” Cas tugged gently at the plug.

Dean swallowed. “For how long… cause man, I am human, you know. And eventually—”

The angel threw him an impatient look. “Until I say otherwise.”

“Okaaay.” A thought occurred to him. “You’re gonna do me while I sleep, aren’t you?”

Cas simply smiled, a very faint devious curve to his lips.

“You freaky angel, you.”

The ropes were undone, cuffs too, and lastly the restraints locking his calves to his thighs. Dean winced as he straightened his bowed legs—partly due to the stiffness in his joints, but mostly because the movement shifted the plug, the bulbous part of it pressing against his prostate.

“Aahhh fuck. Sleeping might be hard to come by here.”

Cas stroked his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I can help with that.”

And that he did.

In fact, Dean slept like he’d been knocked out… slept _right_ through Cas doin’ him. Neither of them cared.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a fun rhyme: "Gratuitous Come is Always Fun"


End file.
